


Draco's life is hard

by Buttros



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, but it turns fluffly in a matter of seconds i promise, draco is smol, may be a bit angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttros/pseuds/Buttros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a crush on the chosen one is, indeed, really hard. Especially if your best friends talk about said crush to the object of said crush at any given opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Draco finished drawing the second eye with a sigh. They weren’t alike, of course. The right one seemed a bit bigger than the left, and the color was wrong: the green was not… perfect enough. The coloring spell – _colorem augurium_ – wasn’t good enough to get the hue just right and he wasn’t good enough as an artist. It was all so frustrating that he closed his notebook and shoved it inside of his pocked, stabbing his salad with anger. 

''Malfoy?'' Zabini sounded too condescending for Draco’s taste ''What has the big bad broccoli done to you?''

Pansy giggled. Draco was so surprised by the sound that he turned his head towards the girl, who took a sip of her juice. Zabini met his eyes, communicating his concern.

Truth is, no one felt the effects of this war more than the Slytherins - and among them, Pansy was the most damaged. Her unfortunate comment about delivering Potter to the Dark Lord had made her the scum of Hogwarts to all the houses (Slytherin was indifferent, like it was to everything else, but its silence was also damaging). She wasn’t eating, and she had to drink _soothing draught_ to sleep. Draco has been giving her a placebo for three weeks now, but she’s bound to notice eventually. The girl didn’t even want to come to Hogwarts for the eighth year, but it was part of their (Draco’s, Zabini’s and hers) probation clauses: they had to complete the year and take the NEWTS. 

''Well, I’m gonna go study. Merlin knows what they will do with the bad Slytherins if they don’t get good grades'' She mocked, as she got up and grabbed a piece of toast. 

''What should we do now?'' Zabini asked when Pansy was away enough not to hear. 

Draco sighed and looked over to the Gryffindor table. It was all that the Slytherin table wasn’t: full, happy and proud. The golden boy at the center, surrounded by friends and fans ( _Urgh_ , Draco thought). The curls of his hair were a little more defined today – maybe he started using the shampoo that Draco made and, unnoticed, replaced for Harry’s old one in the Gryffindor quiddich locker room. His skin was darker, like he spent the entire summer under the sunlight. His smile was soft and carefree, like all of the weight off the world was taken from it – which, in a way, it was. 

And his eyes – those infuriating eyes that Draco couldn’t draw – were emerald green, brownish at the extremities and _suddenly looking his way, fuck_. Draco ducked, falling from his stool and kicking the table so hard it quieted the entire room. Draco finished crawling under the table, hiding and wondering where all his grace had gone.

The first noise was a roar of laughter from no one other than Zabini, his former friend and ally. The other students, probably after hearing the donkey sound falling from Zabini’s mouth, started laughing too. Draco contemplated spending his life under the table, which was challenging, since he was already going to spend it inside the closet. It must have been five minutes of laughter and thirty minutes of waiting for students to leave, but eventually Draco did get up. 

Upon seeing a pair of amused eyes staring back at him from the Gryffindor table, Draco humbly got back to his laying pose under the stool – this time with his face up though. They were the only ones left at the room, which was even better. Harry was laughing now, walking over to the shytherin table. Draco followed the pair of legs getting closer, and then suddenly ducking on a crossed legged position. 

''Don’t you have a class to attend?'' Draco asked, murmuring.

''Nah. I’d rather lavish on your humiliation'' 

Draco sighed. 

''Thanks for the shampoo'' Harry said, amused, and Draco hid his face with his hands ''And for the soap'' Draco groaned ''and the notes in Hermione’s writing. Very skillful, by the way. Oh, and for the drawings'' 

Draco’s eyes snapped open at this, looking horrified to a smirking Harry. 

''Zabini gave me your book after you fell. To enhance your humiliation, he said''

Draco groaned some more, remembering vaguely of a thing called pride. They spent a couple of minutes in blissful silence. Draco met Harry’s eyes a couple of times, in which they would stare at each other and Draco would look away embarrassed in a matter of seconds. The blond worked up some courage, though, invoking all of his ancestors for strength. 

''Har- Potter?'' Draco said, clearing his throat.

''Yeah?'' Harry smiled. 

''Could you say hi to Pansy once in a while? Maybe wish her a good day, as well?''

Harry’s head turned to the side, frowning. 

''Sure... Why though?''

''People are giving her a hard time. Maybe being treated nicely by the boy-who-lived will make a difference''

Harry liked his lips, hiding a smile that Draco had never seen before and desperately wants to draw, and nodded. 

''Harry Potter, what are you doing sitting on the floor?'' Professor Sprout said, in a high voice. 

Harry smiled and winked at Draco – successfully shutting down Draco’s vascular system – and got up.

''Coming, Professor'' 

___*___

''Good morning, Pansy'' Potter said on his way inside of the potions classroom. He didn’t look Draco’s way, but his smile was that same one: small and closed-lipped, like a man who is used to feeling happy. Draco had been observing ( _stalking_ , Pansy had murmured one day at the common room) Harry more on the days that passed the ‘table incident’, and the boy-who-lived only gave that smile when he was looking back a Draco. _Which, of course, must be a mistake_ , Draco thought. _I can’t have a special smile. Potter wouldn’t unconsciously give me a smile. Would he?_

The people outside the classroom stopped and looked, bemused, at Potter, trying to figure out the catch. Granger and Weasel were smirking at Draco ( _Urgh_ , Draco thought). Harry stood in front of the three of the slytherins (Zabini looked like Christmas had come early, the bastard) and smiled a bigger, more common smile, at Pansy.

''There’s a Hogsmead weekend coming'' He said. Then he looked at the rest of the trio ''Do you want to come with us?''

Pansy frowned, biting her lip, which meant that she was going to say no. All the other eight students were frowning too, awaiting an answer.

''Yes'' Zabini almost yelled ''We would love to go. We can remember all of those awkward, yet happy moments of Draco, in the fourth year, trying to get inside the gryffindor common room so he could-''

''Okay'' Draco did yell, interrupting Zabini ''That’s- That’s more than okay. Oh look, the class is about to start. We’ll see you in Hogsmead''

Draco pulled his friends inside the classroom, both laughing at their friend’s demise. Malfoy slapped Zabini’s head for good measure, sitting beside him and preparing his cauldron. 

''Alright, class'' Professor Slughorn said. He proceeded in giving the instructions to the ‘Living-dead’ potion, which Draco knew since he was nine. The blonde allowed himself to just zone out for the rest of the class, brewing the potion by heart.

Draco Malfoy was clever. He wasn’t ‘books-clever’, even though he did read a lot. He had a practical and extensive knowledge that separated from his other classmates. His grades had always been perfect without effort, even though he never got the appreciation that he wanted.

When Draco was in his first year, he wanted to get an award for Outstanding Grades, along with the 50 points for his house that come with it. It was a tradition, almost always won by ravenclaws, that he wanted to achieve. All of the fortune that his family had, even though it made him proud, wasn’t his doing. The Slytherin valued academic achievements and wanted that for himself, for his own pride. So Draco studied. And he got all the perfect grades. And Dumbledore didn’t call his name.

Draco cried that night.

In all the years that followed he never expected anything from anyone as he continued to get Os. The teachers didn’t bat an eye to him. Granger was still number one in the class. 

So when Draco proclaims that he is smarter than any other student, even though the affirmation is enlaced with arrogance, he is not saying that without evidence. He doesn’t recite the books he reads by heart – even though he could. He understands it, relates it to other subjects and even produces knowledge of his own. 

Once the potion was finished, Draco forced his attention back into the classroom. Slughorn was going from table to table, giving notes and correcting. When he got to Draco’s, he didn’t even dignify the boy’s potion with a glance. Draco wasn’t expecting him to, anyway. 

''Malfoy?'' Harry said loudly, from the table beside his, getting the attention from the class. When Draco met his eyes, Harry’s lips formed that beautiful private smile ''Are you done with your potion?'' 

''Yes'' Draco murmured. He cleared his throat, glancing at the rest of the class. 

''Professor? Was Draco’s potion perfectly brewed?'' Harry looked at Slughorn, anxiously. 

Slughorn examined the potion again, almost regrettably. 

''Why. Yes. Very well done, Ms. Malfoy'' And he carried on to other students. 

Draco turned his eyes to Harry, whose attention was already back at his own cauldron, and whispered a ‘thank you’ under his breath. Harry must have heard, though, because he bit his lip and glanced furtively at Draco. 

With the 20 minutes of free time that he had, he decided to draw his only model, perfecting the Smile. Remembering that Potter hadn’t returned his notebook yet, he turned to a blank page on his potions book and scribbled away, sometimes looking at Harry for guidance. 

''Alright, last minute to turn in your potions'' Slughorn cried. Draco mindlessly got up and did, only to return and find his former friends showing Potter and the special smile his recent drawings.

''Oh for Merlin’s sake…'' He snatched it from their hands and fled out of the classroom, not quite running because he still pretended to hold a sense of pride.

''Malfoy! We’ll go together to Hogsmead, yes?'' Potter cried from somewhere behind him. 

Draco only waved his hand, not really wanting to make a scene, and he heard Harry laughing at a distance. 

Draco Malfoy was a very realistic person. He doesn’t claim that he has always been a sensible one, but he was very aware of what could and what couldn’t happen to him, what he could and couldn’t do. 

The circumstances of his name, of the house he was put in and, most importantly, of his actions made it so that his prospects in the wiziding world were scarce. He would never hold any position in the ministry because of a marc that was put in his arm. People would never expect something good upon the mention of his name. And he was fine with that. He had made his peace with his future, and he was prepared to fight hard for happiness, and never just expect it to fall in his lap.

And yet.

One year and two months after the war. 9 months after his father’s death. 5 months after his mother’s death. 

Draco Malfoy allowed himself to believe that Harry Potter could, maybe one day, like him. Even if just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

''We therefore find Lucius Malfoy guilty of murder, the possession of dark objects and an active involvement with _he-who-must-not-be-named_ and sentence him to a lifetime in Azkaban'' The man said it as if this was just another task, another item to check off his to-do list. As if he wasn’t tarring Draco’s world apart. 

His body moved unconsciously, opening a path through all those people – _why were all of them here?_ – And reached his father, swinging his arms around him. 

''I forgive you'' Draco said. He might have yelled. He might have whispered ''I forgive you, father'' 

Lucius was pulled from him. His expression was one of pain and regret. He mouthed a word. _Draco_. There were tears in his eyes, running down his face, and all Draco could think about was how he never knew his father. It is only once you strip a man off his pride and all the superfluous things that he holds dear, Draco mused, that you can discover who he really is. In Lucius case, he was just a weak man who loved the idea of his perfect wife, and the idea of his perfect son. 

The fate that he was met with wasn't fair. I wouldn't had been fair even if it had been set upon the Dark Lord himself. In the official reports, Lucius killed himself. His family, the Malfoys, received the news of his passing with strength, and set out to try to turn the name into something else. Something better. 

The truth, however, is that Lucius Malfoy was murdered by the aurors that were guarding his cell. Draco and Narcisa knew this because they received very graphic confirmations of this crime. The sort of evidence that would be unquestionable in court, but would be completely ignored given the family’s dark past. 

Draco did hold himself with strength, because he knew that he had to be there for his mother. 

Narcisa Malfoy was not convicted or sentenced to Azkaban because Harry Potter defended her. Draco remembers how energetic he was, how he was almost crying from frustration, how Harry Potter made it his life’s mission to make sure that Draco kept at least his mother with him. 

''Draco'' she said one day, lying on her bed. She had stayed in such position during those few months after father’s death ''Will you draw me something? I know you love to draw'' 

So Draco did. He drew his mother on the beach, starring into the ocean with a soft smile on her face. He colored the sky pink and her dress purple. She sang to him, as he drew, and he accompanied her in a duet.

Narcisa Malfoy killed herself four months after parts of her husband came back home. 

Draco was part of the select group of seventeen year olds who were not sentenced to Azkaban, but to a different kind of punishment: NEWTS. Not only that, the isolation of the housing system at Hogwarts, exclusion from your professors and overall no prospects of employment. 

Draco’s pride was also stripped away from him, along with everything that he held dear. But, unlike his father, Draco was not weak. Draco loved his friends, and he wanted to make something of himself, but above everything else, he was in love. 

Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter and that was the only certainty in his life. 

He discovered this when he was thirteen years old, and of course proceeded to be an absolute coward about it. However, it was nice to have that constancy, to know that your day will be good if you catch Harry Potter smiling or laughing at something that his friends said. What made everything incredibly difficult is the well-known fact that Harry Potter is always on the verge of dying. 

''So let me see if I got this straight'' Blaise had said, raising his hand, frowning ''You want me to make fun of Harry Potter, while saying that the only thing that he can do right is fly his broom, so that an _idea_ is planted on his mind that he actually is _very good_ at flying… so that he will have the confidence to defeat the Dragon on his first task… by flying.

''Yes, and Pansy you need to constantly bump into him while talking about flying. We need to make sure that he is already thinking about it when Blaise makes fun of him'' Draco said enthusiastically, drawing on his green board with a piece of white chalk. 

When he turned to look at his friends, they were both staring at him with the palms of their hands put together in a praying position. 

''What?'' Draco shrugged. 

Nevertheless, they always helped him in his endeavors to keep Harry Potter alive, unfortunate comment at the battle of Hogwarts notwithstanding. 

''What if he tries to kiss you?'' Pansy whispered later on the day of the ‘Invitation to Hogsmead’, as they studied in the library. 

Draco blushed and looked up from his book, his eyes wide.

''Do you think he might?'' 

''Stranger things have happened'' She said in an ominous tone. 

''Wow. Ta for that'' He attempted to push her off her chair.

''I’m just saying. Why would he invite us to Hogsmead in the first place?'' 

''And why would he keep your notebook?'' Blaise chimed in.

''Oh yeah, about that you dickhead...'' 

Draco was shushed by more than five people for this. He sighed, returning his attention to his DATDA book. 

''I don’t wanna talk about this, okay? He invited us because he is polite. And probably because he wants to turn me down gently'' Draco frowned, already fearing this scenario. 

''He wouldn’t invite you to Hogsmead to turn you down. He could have pulled you to the side after class for that'' Blaise murmured. 

''Just brush your teeth, is all we’re saying'' Pansy smirked. 

Needless to say that Draco didn’t sleep that night thinking about the worse things that could happen if Harry Potter _did_ try to kiss him. He discovered that _actually dying_ wouldn’t be so bad, analyzing all of the other options. 

He got up at 5 in the morning to get ready, opting for a blue shirt and black jeans. No gel on is hair and _just_ the right amount of perfume. 

''Please, if there is a God. I will give you my first born child if I don’t pass out'' This was his mantra as he walked down to get breakfast. 

Five years later ( _okay, maybe not that long_ , Draco thought) all of the students were assembling to go. Blaise was laughing at something, probably Draco’s face, and Pansy telling Hermione a joke, probably Draco’s life. 

Everyone started walking towards the doors when someone caught his hand.

''Why so fast? It’s almost as if you want this to be over quickly'' Harry chuckled. He was standing really close, his eyes so ( _infuriatingly_ ) green, his smile so big. _Fuck_ , his _special_ smile. Harry intertwined their fingers together, which might have given Draco an aneurism, and pulled him towards their group of friends. 

They were already half way there when Draco’s brain function began to work properly again. Harry and him were a little behind, which was almost as if Harry wanted them to have some privacy, which would make sense because they were _holding hands_. 

''Why _did_ you try to get into the Griffindor common room in our fourth year?'' Harry asked, as if they were continuing a conversation. 

''Would you believe me if I told you that it was because I wanted to know the interior design?'' 

''Nope'' Harry laughed. 

Draco sighed. _Oh well_ , he thought, _what Harry didn’t know, at this point._

''I wanted to figure out how to open the egg and try to help you without you knowing that it was me helping you'' Draco looked down, blushing. 

''Wow, that’s actually a really innocent reason to want to sneak into my room'' Harry chuckled ''I actually wanted to go to the Slytherin for much naughtier reasons''

Draco stopped walking, staring at him open mouthed and wide eyed. Harry blushed and placed his free hand on Draco’s cheek. He licked his ( _infuriating_ ) lips and just waited for Draco to reach some sort of conclusion, which he absolutely didn’t.

''What does that mean?'' He whispered.

''It means that I fancy you'' 

Draco stopped breathing. It took 10 solid seconds for him to speak again. 

''I don’t understand''

Harry laughed and leaned a bit forward, placing a kiss to the tip of Draco’s nose. 

''I like you'' He kissed Draco’s cheek ''I have a... _crush_ on you'' Harry blushed, looking down in embarrassment. His smile then turned softer before he placed a kiss on Draco’s other cheek ''I have feelings for you''

He ended with a press of lips, soft as a courtship, on Draco’s, and the former death eater felt as if sunlight was running though his veins. 

A year after the war and Draco finally, properly, opened his heart to happiness. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have another Drarry fic. Go check it out!!


End file.
